Clea Clea

I like that this particular Alice McCall beauty references the boyish charm of overalls, Summer’s most comfortable tent dresses that you swim in (in the most flattering of ways) and Alice’s iconically feminine lace. Then you take a step, and all in the vicinity suffer an inception brain collapse of perfect billowing legs. The most important factor, though, is that there are pockets to hide perfect Sri Panwa breakfast fruits for the day. I jest. Fruit and luxurious jumpsuits are unfortunately incompatible. Smiling eggs perhaps…

Surely you would all understand the appeal of such a onesie by now. If not, Elvis is disappointed. It all begins with the impossible flattery of generously stitched trousers – suddenly you’re taller, you’re thinner, and triple the badass. Insane prints and visually abusive colours become socially and politically acceptable – if she’s wearing royal drapes on her legs, I suppose they can look like a Moroccan carpet too. Then, with a top half attached, you are now freed from the legal obligation to remain poised: crab dancing and beach leaping is executed with grace and without flashing. I did, however, find it a little difficult to crab dance across the stepping stones at Baba Pool Club after breakfast – admiring the contrast of tumbling jungle greenery and flat bay beyond the sunken booths would fare much better.

For your reference, I would recommend performing crustacean rituals at Baba Nest instead.

Meanwhile, apologies for taking a miss on the updates yesterday: two weeks of 6 hours days learning how to sue people tends to be quite uninspiring.